


With mine own weakness being best acquainted

by ExhumingR



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abstract, Angst, Depression, Drunken Ramblings, M/M, R is pretty damn sad here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExhumingR/pseuds/ExhumingR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk R's thoughts on life... and therefore Apollo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With mine own weakness being best acquainted

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so the coherency of this is a bit up and down. I tried to write it quite fractured because it's written from the perspective of someone who is not only drunk but broken. Okay, to set the scene just imagine that R is sat at the back of the Musain whilst there's a meeting on and he's drunk. That should do it.

There are days where I am so happy, where the littlest things can make me smile. There are days where I am so overwhelmed by the world and all its intricacies, the wonder and awe embedded in each little detail. Some days leave me so euphoric that I start to _believe_.

And there are days like today.

I don’t remember waking up this morning; then again, I don’t exactly remember sleeping. From the moment I gained consciousness there has been a dark cloud engulfing me. Where did it come from? Yesterday treated me so well, can’t tomorrow rescue me? I stay silent. When asked I shall say I am tired, or perhaps that I have so many thoughts that I couldn’t possibly word them. I don’t get asked.

Here I am: empty, drained, useless.

I stay silent. I could talk. I have ideas. I have laughter within me. I have the same words you own. I stay silent. Why bother lettering my dreams? There will be no answer, of that I’m sure. Don’t make me contribute, let me live behind the suggestion that I am interesting. Let me be cloaked in mystery. You will be disappointed if you pin me down. My words will fall heavy and crush your gentle optimism. Why should I betray my secrets when I am sure no one will care to hear them? Can’t you help me?

I am being swallowed whole.

Watch me, go on. Take your time, watch me crumble. I remain a mask of myself, a parody of the cheer I once owned. Something went wrong down the line. How is it possible to be so unhappy and have no one realise. I stay silent.

Fragile and beaten, that’s what I am. Go on. Watch me crumble, please. Won’t anybody notice? I’m waiting, I’m always waiting. Watch me crumble and look on in horror at how I mask it.

_I’m okay. I insist._

Please don’t believe me. Better yet, _do_. Let me have my melancholy, it’s all I have left. You’ve taken my ears and my eyes, robbed me of my heart and stolen my attention. Use me. Don’t leave me here to gather dust. Take all I have but leave me my bitterness, it’s the only feeling left in me. You’d have me be a shell of a man, you’d have me mindless and blinded.

Oh Apollo, give me light. Do blind me, you own my eyes; have done since I first laid them upon the fairness you own. I would believe you if it were in me to do so. Today the world seems empty but how can I be lonely with your voice in my ear? Blind me, turn me into a fool, _and prove me wrong_. You were always the better man.

Man? I’m mistaken. You are no man; you are liberty disguised with golden curls. Sol could not shine as bright as you. I must claim darkness. It is only fair of me. You rule me. So shine, blot out my darkness and you have won the world, Apollo.

This I can do for you.  I can paint a world where I am the villain and you, you are light. By doing me such insult I can place you in great virtue. Any hardship I meet, doing you justice, gives me greater satisfaction, knowing that I have made myself of use to you. And yet...

I stay silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, don't look at me like that, I know it's rather *cough* rough around the edges. Originally, I was writing it as a poem but I scrapped it because I wanted to see the response to the content before I bother manipulating the structure.  
> It's quite tricky to follow I know, he changes his mind a lot. I was trying to write it based on how I feel when I drop which basically means I just get trapped and locked on and everything gets fractured and chaotic. So this was the result. I'm not sure how I feel about it. There's not much substance to it, no background, just his thoughts penned down. Yeah, I don't like it. Mind you, I'm not a mad fan on anything I post but I'm practising and I will conquer the art of writing!  
> The title was from Shakespeare's sonnet 88.  
> Criticism, as always, is more than welcome.


End file.
